Okay, friends – You asked for it. A lot of people wanted a Halloween Huddy fic. It's crazy and campy, but fun. So if you take it with a grain of salt (and munch some candy corn) hopefully it'll be entertaining. Warning: Smutty final chapter. Props to my husband for helping me think up this crazy story and to Anon for being on hand for fact- checking! Oh, and, I don't own these characters!

CHAPTER 1

"Well, howdy there, stick-in-the-mud!" House exclaimed as Cuddy swept into the team room. He looked up at her under his cowboy hat, boots propped on the table. Cuddy rolled her eyes at him. "We need to talk," she said brusquely, gesturing for him to follow her into his office.

"Hmmm…" he debated, turning to the team. "Differential: Serious tone of voice, no nonsense strut, big luscious ass… Trick, or treat would you say?" he asked the team.

"House!" Cuddy hissed.

"Hang tight, cowpokes," he told the team, limping toward his office.

"You're the only cowboy I've ever seen with a cane," Taub called after him.

"You're the only bald guy I know who gets laid," House replied, not turning around.

House entered the office and closed the door. Cuddy was standing at House's desk. "You just wanted another look at my chaps," he told her. "I'm not keeping it on, missy. You wouldn't wear yours, so you don't get to reap the sexual benefits of my great idea."

"House, listen to me," Cuddy said, snapping him out of his snark-fest. "We have a major situation." House looked at her and bit his tongue, seeing she was stressed. "The county prison is transferring an inmate here. They don't know what's wrong with him. He went into what appeared to be anaphylactic shock during his last meal."

"Last meal?" House asked. "As in death row last meal?" he asked. Cuddy nodded soberly. "Cool," House commented. "What's he in for?"

"He's a sociopath," Cuddy explained. "Serial killings across the state. Slit the throats of whole families. It's crazy," she shivered. "They're sending armed guards to follow him everywhere, but he's a real Hannibal Lecter-type, so we have to be very careful about this."

"So I'm supposed to figure out what's wrong with him, so they can kill him," House summarized. Cuddy nodded. "Are you messing with me?" She shook her head. "Well, oaky-dokey, little lady," he said, taking the copied files. "Don't you worry your perty little head about it." He began paging through one of the files.

"They thought his food was tainted with peanuts because he has a peanut allergy," Cuddy explained, "but when they examined him, it wasn't anaphylaxis. There was no swelling or rash. It's something else." House nodded, absorbed in the file, and turned to go explain to the team.

"House," Cuddy said, grabbing his arm and turning him back to face her, "Please… Promise me you'll be careful. Take this seriously. This man is a killer."

"I take everything seriously," he told her, winking. He kissed her lightly on the lips and she reached up and moved the brim of his hat up a little. "Admit it, you like it don't you?" He grinned mischievously at her. She half-smiled back, refusing to admit that he looked crazy sexy. "I'm telling you Cuddy, you made a big mistake not being my cowgirl today."

"House, not only is it unprofessional for the Dean of Medicine to dress in a costume, the costume you bought is completely inappropriate!" she exclaimed.

"The purpose of Halloween is for women to dress slutty, Cuddy. I'm just getting in the spirit," he explained. She shook her head at him. "Don't get mad at me when I toilet paper your house," he warned. She left and as she was walking past the team room she saw House walk back in and shoot Chase square in the forehead with a suction cup dart from his gun. She laughed to herself and it lifted some of her tension about this patient, but only some.

"Alright, little doggies," House said, passing out the files. "We got a case. Patient is being transferred from another facility. He starting vomiting uncontrollably after his dinner two days ago and his hair is now falling out in clumps. That's all we know until we get more tests."

"Did the other hospital run an MRI?" Taub asked.

"No," House said.

"Got results for viral or bacterial strains?" Foreman probed.

"Nope," House answered.

"What kind of hospital is this?" Chase asked. "What have they been doing?"

"Preventing riots," House responded. "He's coming from the county prison."

"He's a criminal?" Foreman asked.

"Pot calling the kettle," House retorted, rolling his eyes.

"What'd he do?" Taub asked.

"Does it matter?" House asked.

"You think everything matters," Taub reminded.

"True," House admitted. "What are the occupational hazards of being a serial killer?" he asked, drumming his fingers on the table. The team stared at him.

"You're shitting us," Chase accused. "This is a Halloween prank."

"'Fraid not, cowpoke," House answered, back to his cowboy drawl. "What's a matter? Ya yellow?" They stared at him. "Guess he's a real psycho too," House snorted, laughing. "I say send Foreman in first. The black guy never survives anyway."